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I sighed around Kyle’s cock as Dakota sawed into me, guiding my ass back against him with his two powerful hands. Our rhythm was good, the angle amazing. All the practice together had made us near perfect, even with the myriad of pussy-tingling combinations that somehow always seemed different, every time they took me.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore…” Kyle murmured from above me. I laughed around his cock. Ryan smacked him in the arm.

“You said that one already.”

“I did? Oh, okay.” He reached down to pin my hair back behind both ears. It was tied up in two big golden braids that he let sift intentionally through his fingers. “Follow the yellow brick road?”

Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Alright, that was even worse.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

I was too busy to get involved in the conversation, being taken from both ends. Concentrating on the deep enjoyment of being screwed so firmly from behind, while having the taboo thrill of Kyle’s manhood filling the back of my throat.

I had to admit it was cute watching them fight, though.

“I’ve got one,” Dakota grunted from behind me. “Where do you want to be oiled first?”

He pulled out of me for a moment and smacked himself across the surface of my ass. For a second I tensed up, ready for the thick splash of hot semen all over my naked back. But then, gratefully, he was inside me again.

“That’s not even a line,” said Ryan.

“Sure it is,” Dakota replied. “Dorothy says it to the tin man.”

Ryan snickered anyway. Line or no line, he wasn’t going to let his friend get away with it. “Now I think you’re just making shit up.”

In time I was laid out on my back, one lover spreading my legs while the other two knelt on either side. It was one of my favorite positions, because I felt like I could accommodate everyone. I reached out with both hands to take Dakota and Kyle in my two pumping fists, while Ryan slid between my thighs and begin fucking me in earnest.

YES…

I’d wanted it all night: a warm fire, soft pillows. To stretch out before the comfort of the flames, my three fiancés taking turns on me in a circle. One screwing me hotly while I stroked the others in my fists. Lolling my head from side to side, so I could take them in my mouth as well.

It played out beautifully, in a well-rehearsed symphony of sighs, whimpers, and groans. One by one they finished inside me; first Ryan, then Kyle, then Dakota at last. Each moment was powerful — a singular emotional connection as their eyes flared, their bodies went rigid, and they found me smiling back at them as they looked into my eyes.

They were each so different at the moment of climax, too. Dakota’s connection was always emotional, as if he were letting something go in that one, heated moment. Ryan was more intense, eye-fucking me savagely through a series of guttural grunts and groans. And Kyle… well, Kyle and I usually shared the same secret smile. The same one we shared the very first time, when we’d taken each other before all the others.

The afterglow was one of my favorite parts too. Drenched and overflowing, I’d lay there listening and laughing at the camaraderie between them. It was always amusing to me, how quickly my boys could go from the ferocity and teamwork of physically sharing me to throwing quips and jabs at each other again. I often wondered if it was like that on the battlefield. Them coming together to focus on some common goal, and then breaking that tension afterward by falling back into their same old routine.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Kyle teased. “I’m melting! I’m melting!”

He danced before the flames, pretending to shrink. Dakota threw one of my socks at him.

God, I love them.

Two arms went around my waist, and I was being pulled into Ryan’s lap. He spooned me from behind, kissing my shoulder and sending all new shivers down that whole side of my body.

“Everything okay, Dorothy?”

I felt warm. Sated. Contented, before the fire. Everything was perfect. Everything except Jason, but I’d promised myself, at least for tonight, to keep those thoughts from my mind.

“Everything’s perfect.” I paused, giggled, then rolled my eyes as I added my own joke: “There’s no place like home.”

Fifteen

SAMMARA

I bolted awake from the strangest dream. One in which I was flying down the side of a snow-covered mountain, only I couldn’t see my feet, or my hands, or arms. I could’ve been skiing, or floating, or gliding in a wing-suit. All I knew was I was accelerating at an incredible rate of speed, to the point where the sky melted into the grey horizon.